


torn

by diminishedmercury



Category: Code Vein (Video Game)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Quick drabble, hisoka has a lot of feelings, not all of them are good, panic/anxiety, yakumo just wants to make sure he's okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24677857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diminishedmercury/pseuds/diminishedmercury
Summary: When he remembers that piece of his past, the pain is unbearable. He had known he had come from something bad— there were too many scars on his body for it to have been anything good— but he hadn’t known that he would still feel the echoes of pain shoot through his chest. Jack. Jack is the Hunter’s name and they had once been comrades. And Jack had been the one with the intent to put him in the ground— permanently. He understands it, given the context of his memories, but he can’t help the shaking of his hands when he’s forcefully pulled back from the shard of his vestige and placed suddenly in patterns of white.
Relationships: Protagonist/Yakumo Shinonome
Kudos: 20





	torn

When he remembers that piece of his past, the pain is unbearable. He had known he had come from something bad— there were too many scars on his body for it to have been anything good— but he hadn’t known that he would still feel the echoes of pain shoot through his chest. Jack. Jack is the Hunter’s name and they had once been comrades. And Jack had been the one with the intent to put him in the ground— permanently. He understands it, given the context of his memories, but he can’t help the shaking of his hands when he’s forcefully pulled back from the shard of his vestige and placed suddenly in patterns of white. Jack is terrifying to him. He couldn’t imagine being so calm while killing his companion, no matter how briefly he had known them. He couldn’t imagine being able to live with that guilt. He doesn’t know what Jack has lived through, but he knows that the next time they meet, he’s not going to be able to look him in the eye without flinching. The memory is burned into his brain now, the only ones he’s managed to claw back, and he clings to it with a ferocity.

“Hisoka—” He hears, almost distantly. That was his name, yes, but there’s a disconnect between himself and his body and he’s not sure who is speaking to him. He’s barely certain that he is Hisoka. There are hands that gently cup the sides of his face and they are big and strong and warm, but he can’t help the panic that wells up in his heart. His breath comes out labored and forced, clutching at his heart as the pain starts up again. He was shot, he was supposed to be dead. “Hisoka!” The voice sounds more worried now, but he can’t really make out the face that his chin has been pulled up to look at. The tears come unbidden and it blurs the image even further. “Come back to me— I’m here—” The words are broken up, almost like there’s a film over his eardrums and only bits and pieces can make it through the barriers.

“It hurts,” He chokes out, still holding on to his heart. He can’t breathe,  _ he can’t breathe,  _ **_he can’t breathe—_ **

He’s gently shushed and he’s pulled close to something warm and solid. It was a person, he figures out somewhere in the back of his mind, but he’s still so frightened that he’s still unable to come up with a name for that body. One of the hands is petting his hair and it’s grounding in a strange way. He tries to slow his breathing, tries to take deeper more meaningful gulps of air, but he just manages to choke himself on it and the salty taste of his own tears.

Time passes being held like that, unable to calm himself and he doesn’t know how long it takes for him to come down from that height of fear. White. He sees patterns of white and it clicks with him where he’s at. The Cathedral. He was looking for something. The source of the springs. Louis and Mia had split off from him and Yakumo. They were trying to cover as much ground as they could. Yakumo—

He pulls back with a startled gasp, staring up into wide green eyes. His chest still stings with a pang of phantom pain, but he shakily lets go of his shirt to reach up for Yakumo’s cheek. It’s solid, even if it is a little cold from his mask. He realizes that he, too, is wearing his mask and that must have been what was causing him to have such difficulty breathing in his panicked state. “Yakumo…” He can’t bring himself to apologize for his actions, though he knows he should. He’s grown closer to Yakumo in the month they’ve known each other, but that was still hardly enough time to excuse him clinging to him like a frightened child. He’s suddenly exhausted and he wishes that they could just go back to home base and rest, but he knows they can’t. He still has a job to do. Louis was counting on him, Mia was counting on him, Io was counting on him,  _ Yakumo _ was counting on him— he had so many people that depended on him now and he was scared to realize that he may not be strong enough to live up to their expectations of him.

The memories claw themselves back to the forefront of his mind and he flinches and suddenly buries his face in Yakumo’s chest, arms wound tightly around his neck. He must have seen them and it embarrasses him to know that (they can’t see him be weak, they needed him to be strong, they  _ relied  _ on him to be strong). Yakumo doesn’t speak, but he feels an arm around his waist and a hand at the top of his head, simply resting. He doesn’t say “It’s okay” but he feels it in the way he touches him.

“It’s not…” He whispers, so quietly that he doesn’t think Yakumo can hear it. He feels the embrace get just a little bit tighter and he knows that Yakumo  _ had  _ heard it. He’s embarrassed all over again to be caught in such a state of pessimism. Shame and sorrow twists around his heart like a blazing fire and he’s not sure if he’s able to put it out on his own.

He lets himself be held like that for several more minutes before he cautiously shifts out of the embrace. He wipes his eyes, not daring to look Yakumo in the eye. “We need to go. Louis and Mia will need help.” He doesn’t see the look that Yakumo is giving him, but he can feel the incredulousness from where he stares at his feet. He realizes that he’d dropped his sword sometime in his panic and bends over to pick it up.

“Do you need to talk about it?” He asks and he feels his cheeks turn pink. He does, but he can’t ask that of him.

“I’ll be fine,” He says instead, a lie that tastes bitter on his tongue. He manages to look at Yakumo’s face this time when he says it, but he still can’t look him in the eye. “I— We. We don’t have time right now.” He feels guilty for implying that there would be a  _ later  _ that he would seek Yakumo out for this, but he craves his comfort and his voice more now than he had before. They were complicated feelings, so complicated, and he knows that he can’t indulge them, but he’s afraid he’s going to turn to dust under the pressure that has been placed on him if he doesn’t take advantage of Yakumo’s kindness even just a little bit (and oh— how horrible he feels for even thinking of that).

Yakumo looks unimpressed (unconvinced), but he doesn’t press and slings his own sword over his shoulders. Hisoka feels guilty for watching the way his muscles flex from doing so— he had  _ just  _ comforted him through the worst panic he’s ever experienced in his life. It felt inappropriate to be ogling at the red-head’s arms in that moment. They move on quickly after that and things fall back into their normal pattern, though Hisoka finds himself to be a little quieter than he would normally be with Yakumo. He had a lot to think about now.

* * *

They’re back at home base now and the concept of Successors has been revealed to them. It’s too much too soon and he can’t quiet down the thoughts that storm within his mind. That must be what he is. It  _ must  _ be. No one has said it, they don’t know what he witnessed (don’t even know that he’d found his own vestige in the Cathedral), but he knows somewhere deep in his heart that he is a Successor as well. He doesn’t like the thought of having that much power and it’s as upsetting as it is relieving— he could frenzy at any time, but if anyone had the power to reverse the misery of the other Successors it would be another Successor.

They don’t have much of another lead to go on, so they’ve been given a small amount of time to rest in the home base while Louis tries to find them something to go on. Mia has been helping him. Hisoka… he’s been more or less hiding in the room that he happened to share with Yakumo. He’s too tired to interact with the people he considered his friends, too exhausted to listen to them argue (whether it be playfully or for real), too fatigued to try and hold a conversation when he still can’t stop thinking about Jack or the Successors. He doesn’t know what Yakumo has been doing, but he’s let him have his privacy and he’s both grateful and rueful for it. He knows he’s needed the time to recharge (as restless as he’s been), but he wants Yakumo’s comforting steadiness now more than ever.

There’s a knock at the door and he lifts his head from the pillow that’s become his best friend in the past three days. “Come in,” He says, well aware of his rather unpresentable state. He only has a soft pair of shorts on and his normally immaculately kept hair is thrown up in a messy ponytail in an attempt to tame it. It sticks out at odd angles and when he catches a glimpse of it in the mirror across the room, he can’t help but to make a face at himself. He couldn’t even bother to do his  _ hair _ ?

“Hey,” Yakumo says in the gentlest voice he’s heard on the man when he enters the room. There’s a moment that he looks like he’s choked on air when he looks at Hisoka and now he  _ really  _ knows that he must look a mess.

“Um… I can get cleaned up. I’m sure I look pretty bad right now…” He trails off, but finds himself surprised when Yakumo violently shakes his head.

“No, no. You’re— You’re fine.” He coughs when he says the last part and it leaves him with a look of confusion on his face. Then why was he staring? He doesn’t get a chance to ask before Yakumo has joined him on his bed, set up in the corner of the bedroom that’s opposite Yakumo’s own. He sits by his head and lets out a sigh with tired eyes. “Talking. We never did that.”

He was hoping that Yakumo had forgotten about that. He doesn’t know what to say now that it’s been brought up. “I— I’m sorry.” He dumbly says, letting himself be propped up on his elbow on his side. It’s the most casual he’s ever allowed himself to be with one of his companions that wasn’t Io. Yakumo just looks at him insistently and he sighs, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling of his eyelashes tickling his cheeks. He doesn’t want to fall into that panic again. “The only memories I currently have are what you saw and the past month that I’ve spent here. I don’t even know if Hisoka is actually my name or just something I made up when asked. It’s… It’s hard to not focus on the one you know.”

“Do you ever feel like it’s too much?” He’s surprised by the question, but he feels a saddened look fall on his features when he goes to answer.

“He who runs from destiny only draws the noose tighter around his neck.” He can’t run from any of this, as much as he’s been tempted to at times. He’s relied on and his past is something that he’s accepted as a mystery— until the Cathedral, that is. “The memories, all the things I’ve been asked to do… truthfully, I can’t say that I haven’t thought about disappearing before.”

“And what stops you?” It’s not an accusing question, but it does catch him off-guard. He’s embarrassed by the answer that sits on the tip of his tongue, but it’s never been in his blood to be very good at lying.

“I would have to leave you.” All of you. He loves these people too much to abandon them and he’s realized that somewhere along the way he’d developed a special kind of attraction to Yakumo in particular. He feels blood rushing to his face after having admitted to it, not sure if that admission is welcomed or not. Wasn’t that awkward? Or strange? To have what was essentially a love confession come from a man you’d met only a month prior? He didn’t know if he’d overstepped boundaries or not and he reaches down for the blanket he’d let fall off of him to try and hide his face. He didn’t want to see this reaction.

“Hey! Don’t hide!” The blanket is roughly yanked out of his hands and he’s left staring up with a sheepish, shy expression on his face. “You know I consider you a friend too, right?”

He nearly barks out a laugh at that. He thought of Yakumo as so much more than a friend and it frightened him. He shouldn’t think that way about someone he’d known for such a short period of time. “Yakumo, that’s—”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed about that. I’m actually glad to hear you say that,” He’s smiling so brightly at him that he feels his cheeks turn pink again. He wants to reach over and feel that smile against his lips. “Oh,” Yakumo breathes and he realizes with no small amount of embarrassment that he’d said that out loud. Fuck.

“I mean—! I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry!”

“I didn’t think that you would ever say it,” He laughs and now he feels even worse. Had he been unwittingly making Yakumo uncomfortable with his longing? He didn’t know he had been so obvious about it, even if he did tend to ask Yakumo to help him in the field more often than he’d take out Louis or Mia (or even Io). Yakumo swallows thickly while he’s looking at him and then suddenly there’s two strong thighs bracketing each side of his hips and he forgets all about Jack and the Successors and why he should be embarrassed.

“Oh,” It’s his turn to breathe out as his wrists are taken into a strong grip and pulled above his head. He’s pinned, he knows, but he relishes in the position in a way he never knew he would with Yakumo’s face so close to his own. He smells the smallest traces of the sake he’d given him as a gift on his breath and it sends a shiver down his naked spine. “Oh,” He breathes again when a kiss is placed on his cheek.

“Is this okay?” He hears Yakumo ask in his ear and his head spins with a thousand reasons that they shouldn’t, but he ignores them for the ten thousand that scream of how much he’s longed for this.

“Make me forget,” He almost begs and then there are teeth sinking into the junction of his neck and his shoulder and he almost whites out then and there from the pleasure-pain it brings. It hurts, but there’s something so tender about it that he can’t help but to bend his head away and present his neck submissively, to give Yakumo more access to the pale column of skin. He hears Yakumo almost purr at the action and then the teeth are back, though it’s not nearly as rough as the first bite had been. He knows he’s bleeding, but he doesn’t care when it feels so good to be bled. His hands flex in Yakumo’s grasp, wanting something to hold on to. He almost whines when he can’t do it, but he’s gently shushed and then there are lips on his own and the hands move to intertwine with his. It’s intimate and good and his head swims with emotions that he wasn’t sure if he was ready to confront.

It’s a gentle push and pull between them, Hisoka chasing after Yakumo in a way that feels somewhat ironic considering how often Yakumo chased after him in their day-to-day life in the field. He wants more, more, more. Wants everything that Yakumo will give to him and he realizes that he’s greedy for it. There’s blood in his mouth (his own) and it shouldn’t be as arousing as it is. He remembers what Yakumo’s had tasted like, remembers how sweet the crimson liquid had been sliding down his throat. He wonders if it’s the same for Yakumo, even knowing he’s not allowed to consume nearly as much as Hisoka is.

“Take your hair down,” he breathes as he releases his hands and Hisoka is quick to comply. It’s a blanket of purple hues across his chest and the pillows and he briefly wonders if it’s going to be more of a nuisance to leave it down. He doesn’t have long to linger on that thought as Yakumo buries his hands in his hair and  _ pulls  _ and it drags out a filthy moan from somewhere deep in his breast. The teeth are back and he knows he’s not going to be able to hide all of the bruises that form there, but he’d be a liar if he said he even wanted to try. He wants to touch Yakumo’s bare skin and he’s practically clawing at the hem of his shirt to pull it out from those damnable pants that hug his legs so well. He wants so badly, but the fear of what he is creeps up in the back of his mind again, whispering that Yakumo wouldn’t touch him like this if he only knew.

The thought is terrible enough to make him pull away, hands loosely holding on to Yakumo’s hips. He still wants to touch. He still wants this intimacy. But he doesn’t know if he can stop his own brain long enough for him to enjoy it. “There’s something else,” He starts, unsure of how to finish the sentence. He doesn’t want it to be so real and it will be if he says it out loud. “I…” He’s distracted by the soft touch in his hair and finds it hard to gather up the words he needs to say. “I think I’m a Successor, Yakumo. But I don’t know.” And he doesn’t. It’s not a lie, but there’s something that does scream at him that he already knows this answer when he says it.

He fights off the urge to run away when he sees the skin between Yakumo’s brows bunch together. He doesn’t want to hear rejection, even if it might be for the best. “Do you think that changes my opinion of you?” That… wasn’t exactly the rejection he was expecting.

“Does it not…?”

“Why would it?” He says it like it’s so simple, but maybe it really was that simple. It was one thing that he admired about Yakumo, something that steadied him while riding the rocky waves of the life he’d stumbled his way into. He feels relieved and suddenly exhausted all at once with how much of an emotional roller coaster he’s been riding. His arms move up to hook around Yakumo’s broad chest and pull him downwards, hiding his face in the crook of the red-head’s neck.

“Thank you,” is all he can manage to say, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck. He decides that he likes the feeling of holding Yakumo like this and likes being held in return. “... Take me to the baths?” He doesn’t want to sound demanding, but he’s suddenly very aware of how gross he feels. Yakumo only laughs and crawls off of him, offering a hand to help him out of the bed he’s spent the last three days lying in. It’s oddly domestic to take hold of his hand and be led out the door like that. It’s even more domestic to think about the fact that he wouldn’t be alone in the baths (and God, it would truly be a blessing to have help with washing all of his hair for a change).

“ _ Holy shit! _ ” Tero. He blinks, looking at his friend where he sits by the piano with Louis and Abel. “They  _ fucked _ ! Finally!” Wait.

“Tero!” Louis admonishes him, a frown on his lips. He hears Murasame giggling off to the side and he remembers what they all must be staring at on his neck. Shit. This wasn’t the exact way he had meant for his companions to see him after three days spent locked away. His face feels like it’s burning hot as he slaps a hand to the side of his neck in a vain attempt to try and hide the largest of the bruises. He gets a glimpse of Yakumo’s face and he looks far too pleased with himself and it only makes his face burn even hotter. His hand is tugged on insistently and he follows after Yakumo in almost a dream-like state while listening to the sound of Tero’s loud voice, Abel’s quiet Russian, and Lumen’s tired voice asking them to all shut up so she can sleep. It’s enough to pull a happy laugh out of him and get a curious look from Yakumo.

“I’m just… happy,” he offers as an explanation and he knows the look on his face must be terribly soft. “I’m just glad that if I must be burdened with these responsibilities, I’m at least surrounded by good people.” And it was true. He may not be able to forget what he had witnessed in his vestige, he may not be able to forget that he’s a Successor, and he may not be able to forget his time spent here… but he wasn’t alone in shouldering the burden and the thought was comforting enough to place a warm seed of happiness in his belly.

“Good,” is all Yakumo says and the smile on his face is enough to satisfy Hisoka. He almost falls asleep to the feeling of Yakumo’s hands gently pulling out the tangles in his hair, contented in a way he hadn’t known he ever could be.

**Author's Note:**

> Tero, Abel, and Lumen are all my friends' code vein ocs!   
> Hisoka is my own and the group is pretty intertwined with one another


End file.
